No Witnesses by Bill Abbott

The detective’s chalk outline

of the body is bound at five different

points by black-tallowed candles,

lit. 

The bloodshed in the room was

significant. Professional cleaners

were en route to do what they

always do. The hotel management

was being reassured the room

would return to its generic glory

and the details would stay

quiet. 

The body on the stretcher was fully draped

in white. As the men carried it out, a hand

fell out and briefly drug the floor.

Where it touched, the carpet sizzled.

A few black feathers appeared down the hall

behind the body’s journey

to whatever hereafter it got. 

A girl on the way to the pool stopped,

picked up a feather, and put it in her hair.

Bill Abbott is the author of "Let Them Eat MoonPie," the history of poetry slam in the Southeast. He has been published in Ray's Road Review, Radius, The November 3rd Club, Flypaper Magazine, and The Sow's Ear. Mr. Abbott lives in Ohio and teaches creative writing at Central State University.